


it takes courage to enjoy it

by orderlyhouse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1970s, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Bickering, Gen, Humor, M/M, Names, Pet Names, can be read as book canon as well I guess?, love these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlyhouse/pseuds/orderlyhouse
Summary: “I’m sorry,” he says, “What did you just say?”Crowley recalls the moment, eyes flickering to the side. “Zira.”It’s 1975, and with Crowley attempting to sit on the sofa back right across him, Aziraphale puts his teacup back on the saucer.“And I suppose you were addressing me?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #2 NGK and Other Noises





	it takes courage to enjoy it

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SOSH Guess the author #2 - NGK and Other Noises.  
> Title from Bjork's Big Time Sensuality.

The hand holding the teacup freezes, never reaching Aziraphale’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “What did you just say?”

Crowley looks at him.

“I said, ‘doesn’t that road project look grand?’”

“No, no. After that.”

Crowley recalls the moment, eyes flickering to the side. “Zira.”

It’s 1975, and with Crowley attempting to sit on the sofa back right across him, Aziraphale puts his teacup back on the saucer.

“And I suppose you were addressing me?”

Crowley’s looks confused for a second before shrugging. “I can’t be the first to call you that.”

“Well, no one does. It’s not my name.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Crowley groans in fond exasperation descending to sit on the cushions, “but neither is ‘angel’, and you let me call you that.”

Aziraphale looks at him nonplussed.

“Come on. Live a little. Everyone’s been doing that for hundreds of years now.”

Aziraphale lifts his teacup again and hums. “Is that so?”

He takes a sip.

* * *

Crowley is yapping about his new assignment taking place in a literal field when Aziraphale decides to start small.

“Would you like more tea, my dear?” Aziraphale uses their shared joke gesturing to the whiskey bottle. A moment later he tries not to titter at Crowley’s bewildered and suddenly mute expression.

“Is something wrong?” He asks innocuously.

“What was that for?” Crowley sounds almost offended.

“What? It’s only a common friendly endearment, and it’s fair since you have one for me.”

Crowley doesn’t know where to look as he flushes and mumbles, “It’s not like that, it’s who you are.”

“Oh, _dear_ , you know how languages are. For all I know this one was your influence.”

Crowley sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “No,” he grumbles, “it wasn’t.”

* * *

Crowley comes back a week later with a tin box of butter biscuits and an orange jacket he refuses to talk about.

“Do you know where they are,” Aziraphale calls while Crowley is looking for a spare mug, “AJ?”

The tin box meets the floor.

“You have to be kidding me—“

“What is it, dear?” Aziraphale wanders into the kitchenette to see only Crowley’s back. “Or would you prefer to be called Tony?”

Crowley stills, puts his elbows on the counter and hides his face in his palms to let out a long, deep, desperate sound.

“Alright,” he pleads into his hands, “I get it. I’m sorry I called you that. Won’t do it again, I promise, just— stop.”

“I thought you enjoyed people calling you that?”

“No one does,” he says tetchily and turns to look at Aziraphale, “and you aren’t— You know my real name, not… that.”

Aziraphale regards him for a moment before smiling and nodding in agreement.

“I can still call you ‘angel’, can’t I?” Crowley’s words stop him.

“Oh, I don’t know. Does ‘dear’ sound that bad to you?”

Crowley stares at the closed box on the floor. “I suppose I could get used to it.”

Aziraphale smiles once more, nods again, and leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm living and livid.  
> Follow me on Tumblr @polkanote and thanks for reading 💖


End file.
